


I Like You A Latte

by Cryptic_Stories



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Coffeeshop AU, I stole this from a prompt somewhere, M/M, Rivalry, Roman is too extra, Sleep | Remy Sanders is a Little Shit, Virgil is a dead inside barista, and i will be sad, barista, but it was funny, i don't remember, if this doesn't make you laugh then I have failed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:13:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 11,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22766806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cryptic_Stories/pseuds/Cryptic_Stories
Summary: FOUND THE PROMPT!!"Coffeeshop AU where Virgil is the dead inside barista and Roman is that one guy that comes in almost every morning with the most complicated order and every time he orders Virgil is one step closer to actually killing a man.Bonus: To be extra petty, Virgil misspells Roman's name as Ramen every. single. time."(Prompt by incorrectprinxietyquotes on tumblr)
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Prinxiety
Comments: 86
Kudos: 232





	1. Hazelnut Macchiatos Are Grounds For Revenge

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! Just a warning, there is going to be some cursing in this chapter! 
> 
> Thanks for joining me on this little adventure of a story. Also, fair warning, I have no idea how complicated drink orders go so here we go on the guessing train.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I said, can I get a grande iced skinny hazelnut macchiato with sugar-free syrup, an extra shot of espresso, light ice, and no whip?”

Virgil blinked twice.

_What the actual fuck._

As he typed in the order, he had to remind himself—at least twice—that it was _just another customer, just another customer_. _They are not out to get with you, they’re just really picky. It’s okay, you can do this._

Working at a coffee shop hadn’t been Virgil’s first choice for a job—he didn’t really like having to put on a friendly face and greet customers like he wasn’t dying inside (besides, he was pretty sure they all _knew_ he was, anyway. Why did he have to pretend like he wasn’t a tired college student just trying to pay the bills?)—but he did appreciate the perks on some days. Like the smell of coffee. And discounts on drinks. And being able to pay for tuition. 

But it was days like these—days where his coworkers decided not to show up and he was completely on his own and someone just ordered the most complicated drink in the _existence of complicated drinks_ —when his soul seemed to wither and crack and he _really_ just wanted to curl up in a ball in the breakroom until he disappeared. 

Which he couldn’t do because Remy just _decided not to show up. AGAIN._

Not that he was upset, or anything. 

“Could I get a name for the order, please?” Virgil said, trying to sound cheery. If it came off as forced as it felt, the man across from him didn’t seem to notice. 

“Roman,” He responded with a grin.

“Alright, Roman, your order will be ready in just a minute.” _Or two. Or three. Or…_

Making the drink was immeasurably difficult. Yeah, Virgil had experience with making customized coffee orders. But it’d never gotten this bad. This was his worst nightmare customer to date. 

About halfway through the order, he remembered one of the rare pieces of advice that his coworker had given him: 

“ _Well, I’ve gotten a few horrible customers myself. Whenever that happens, just spell their name wrong on the cup. It’s a little silent bit of protest that they can’t call you out on unless they_ really _want to be seen as an asshole. Always works, without fail. Sure, it’s petty as hell, but it’s really satisfying._ ”

A small smirk formed on Virgil’s lip. He shot a glance at the curly-haired man waiting at the counter and, with the sharpie he kept in his apron pocket, scribbled _Ramen_ on the side of the cup. 

It was perfect. 

Virgil could already feel the petty satisfaction creeping into his chest. Was it supposed to feel this good? 

Roman didn’t even give the cup a second glance when Virgil gave it to him, which caused Virgil to feel happier than he had in weeks. 

_That’s a weird thing to feel happy about, but hey, if it works, it works…_

“Bye, Virgil!” Roman said with a diva-like wave of his hand. Virgil stared back, suddenly paralyzed and wondering how the man knew his name. 

_I didn’t tell him, did I? I don’t remember telling him that. Shouldn’t I remem—_

_Oh, yeah. Name tag._

Virgil didn’t have time to recover from his moment of paranoia before Roman had turned on his heel and left the shop, unaffected by the barista’s lack of response. Virgil could only blink twice, shake his head, and get back to the next customer. 

_Well, at least I’ll probably never have to see him again._


	2. Trouble is Brewing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil was wrong, Remy's just here to watch the mayhem.

“Remy, where were you yesterday?” Virgil asked in the break room of the coffeeshop as he tied his apron behind his back. 

“Hmm, I took the day off. Sick leave. Didn’t you hear?” The man said, still reclining on one of the chairs and staring into his phone. 

“No. Management hasn’t told me anything. You were still scheduled yesterday, and I had to work the entire shift on my own.”

“Oof. Sorry, babe.”

Virgil pursed his lips in a tight line. “C’mon, get dressed already. We have to open up shop.”

“Be there in a minute.” Virgil sighed. Typical Remy behavior. Not that he minded too much—he knew how to open on his own. But Remy was always better at the interacting-with-customers part of the job, so he continued to hope that maybe Remy would stay true to his word. 

An idea came to his head. “Hey, Remy.”

“Yeah?”

“If you get ready now I’ll tell you about a crazy customer from yesterday.”

“Ooh, _tea_!” 

“Not unless you get your ass out here,” Virgil said, unlocking the front doors of the shop before returning behind the counter. 

Remy was out in record time, to Virgil’s delight. His eyes were aglow and filled with excitement when he heard the story, and he was doubled over with laughter by the time the first customer came through the door. 

“Oh, I hope I get to meet this guy some day.”

“You’d love to meet him, Remy, up until the minute he opens his mouth to make an order,” Virgil said wryly. 

“Well, if you see him, give me a sign so I know. I want to see this dude.”

——

Virgil hadn’t actually expected Roman to stride through the doors again later that day. He wasn’t sure what kind of twisty thing was happening in his stomach, but he decided to label it as dread as he watched the man line up behind two others waiting to place their orders. Virgil subtly pointed him out to Remy, who strategically started avoiding the register (to Virgil’s dismay). 

Finally, the time came. Roman strode up to the register. _I am not emotionally prepared to deal with whatever this guys is about to say to me._

“Hi, can I get a quad grande, nonfat caramel macchiato—extra hot—with cinnamon?”

Virgil could hear Remy snort from behind the espresso machine. He elected to ignore him until after this Roman guy left, and began typing in the order into the register. 

“Quad grande, extra hot nonfat caramel macchiato with cinnamon. What was the name for that order?”

“Roman.” Virgil could’ve sworn he heard the dude add extra emphasis to the o’s, and he smirked inwardly. 

“Alright, your total will be $5.75.”

Once Roman had paid for the order and moved to the pickup counter, Virgil shared a glance with Remy before fixing the order. Just before he finished, he whipped out his sharpie, wrote “Ramen” on the cup, and poured in the probably-cursed liquid. 

He passed it over in silent agreement to Remy, who placed it on the counter for Roman to get. 

Except Remy loudly announced “Caramel Macchiato for Ramen!” right before handing it over, causing both Roman and Virgil’s faces to go bright red. 

Virgil couldn’t help but to burst out laughing after Roman had left. 

“Oh my gosh, you were _right!_ He totally noticed, babe,” Remy cackled. “Looks like you’ve got yourself a regular.”

“ _I’ve_ got a regular? Me, specifically?” Virgil huffed, a brow raised. 

“Yeah, I’m not touching this one. He’s all yours,” Remy said. "Also he's low key kind of attractive, so if you don't make a move then I will."

“Psh. I bet he won’t come back tomorrow,” Virgil said, ignoring the second part of that statement. It's not that Roman _wasn't_ attractive...but this was war. He had to keep his eyes on the prize (even if the prize _was_ World's Pettiest Barista). “Not after you called him Ramen in front of everyone.”

“Alriiiight…I bet you coffee he’ll be here tomorrow.” Virgil quirked a brow. 

“Deal,” He shrugged. 

“Ah, and the bet is on.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your support! Be sure to leave some kudos if you liked it! <3


	3. Triple Shot Death Wish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our Diva Returns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Thanks so much for the positive response I've already gotten from you guys! Can't wait to drop more chapters!

Virgil hadn’t gotten any sleep last night—and that wasn’t any exaggeration. He had literally gotten no sleep, needing to pull an all-nighter just to finish a paper for Sociology 101. His eyes were burning when he showed up for work at 5:30 the next morning, and every part of his body felt stiff. At least the paper was done, though. 

Virgil sleepily tied his apron, fumbling with the knot for a good three minutes before Remy piped up. 

“Did you pull an all nighter, Virge?”

“How did you know?” Virgil squinted. 

“Honey, your apron’s inside out,” Remy said, standing up suddenly. “Here. I’m going to fix it, then you are going to sit down on this chair right here while I open up shop and make you something to wake you up. Got it?” 

“O-okay,” Virgil said, blinking off the confusion. Remy quickly fixed Virgil’s apron and actually— _for once in his life_ —opened up the shop on his own. He was back in ten minutes with a steaming hot cup of something very dark and coffee-scented. 

“What is this?” Virgil said, sniffing it. 

“It’s how I got through year one of college, babe. Just drink it. There you go.” Virgil wasn’t exactly feeling awake enough to protest or worry about the potential side effects. And _damn,_ did it work. The sleep was gone in minutes and Virgil was on his feet in no time, filling out orders at an even faster pace than he was used to. He kept wondering when the caffeine crash was going to hit, but it didn’t. 

Until a certain curly haired diva walked in the door. 

Virgil didn’t notice him at first, until Remy cleared his throat and pointed to the register, where the man stood waiting. Instantly Virgil stiffened up and walked forward, preparing for the worst. His anxiety was kicking in just thinking about what the order was going to look like.

“Hi, how can I help you today?” Virgil said as sweetly as he could manage. _I can feel the caffeine buzz draining out of me. Dear lord._

“Hey. Can I get a grande caramel macchiato, skim, extra shot, extra hot, extra whip? And sugar free, please.”

_Oh._ This _is war._

Virgil’s eye twitched as he put in the order, biting his lip as he did so. The machine was running slow today, and it took almost a minute to get everything to load. One minute…standing in front of his decidedly mortal enemy. Finally, when the transaction was complete, Virgil grabbed a cup and pulled out his sharpie. Before he could write anything down, Roman piped up again. 

“Oh, and, uh, the order name is Roman, by the way. Not Ramen. Roman,” He emphasized, pushing up his sunglasses. 

“Right. _Ro_ man,” Virgil nodded, scribbling _Ramen_ onto the cup. “Cool. Your order will be ready soon.”

This time, he passed the cup instantly to Remy, who read the order and cringed. Virgil could almost sense waves of pity floating off Remy, but it was replaced soon by the excitement and tension as Remy strode to the pickup counter. 

“Grande caramel macchiato for Ramen!” Remy announced proudly, placing his masterwork on the counter. Virgil began to “cough” uncontrollably, and had to step into the back room for a minute in order to collect himself. He didn’t have time to see Roman’s reaction to the wording on the cup, but he was sure it was a work of art in itself. 

_That’ll get him to stop coming by._

“By the way, babe, you owe me coffee,” Remy said, leaning through the door of the break room.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m on it,” Virgil said, taking one more drink from his water bottle before pushing himself out of his chair and back to the register. 

_If that Roman guy ever does come back, man is going to hate me._

_I’ve never dealt with a diva quite like him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave some kudos! <3


	4. Ristretto

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil gets a day off. Or so he thought. He's still in denial.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Warnings for quite a bit of cursing in this chapter.

After three more days of dealing with “his” nightmare customer, Virgil was finally freed. Sundays were his day off, and he planned to use it to his advantage by studying in the library. Of course, Remy had to take up a shift that day to make up for the “sick leave” he had supposedly taken on Monday, but that just meant Virgil had someone to update him about the whereabouts of Roman. A perfect arrangement. 

Virgil walked up the steps of the old stone library, book bag slung over one shoulder and a pair of earbuds dangling from his ears. He was determined to study for the upcoming sociology exam that had been looming in the back of his mind for the past week. This was the first free morning he’d had to do so. After waving hello to Patton—his friend who volunteered weekends at the library’s help desk—Virgil quickly found himself a table in the quieter corner of the library, spreading his books across the surface and delving into the readings at record speeds. 

It was only around midday, well after Roman should’ve shown up an wreaked havoc on the poor baristas, that Virgil heard anything from Remy. 

* * *

_REMY: how’s the studying?_

_VIRGIL: It’s going alright. any updates?_

_REMY: it’s a no-show over here_

_VIRGIL: Wait, what?_

_REMY: ramen didn’t show up_

_REMY: idk where he went_

_REMY: maybe we scared him off lol_

_VIRGIL: Jeez, maybe we did. Thanks for_

_the update, Remy. See you tomorrow._

* * *

Virgil wasn’t exactly sure how he should feel about Roman being a no-show. On the one hand, it was nice knowing that he wouldn’t have to worry about breaking his back over a stupid drink order, but at the same time…

_Why the hell do I feel bad about it?_

_Was_ I _the real asshole here?_

He didn’t like the little twist of worry his stomach did. _Why does it even matter, anyways? It’s not like I know him or anything. Or like this will have any long term impact. At all. Ever. Seriously, though, when the hell am I going to see him agai—_

He suddenly found his answer to the question. 

Looking up from his books, he had caught the very diva himself staring right back at him from across the library. He looked like he had been trying to find a table to sit at. When they made eye contact, the diva furrowed his brows for a second before making his way right to Virgil’s table. The barista froze. 

_No no no no please don’t sit here please don’t sit here forget I exist and walk aw_ —

“Aren’t you the barista who always spells my name wrong?” Roman said incredulously. 

_Play dumb!_

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” _Ohhh no he’s going to see right through that one—_

“Well I know you’re the barista,” Roman said slowly, “I’m pretty sure I’d recognize that shade of purple in your hair anywhere.”

_FUCK!_ Virgil’s mind shouted, triggering several alarm bells in his head. He needed to get out, and stat. 

He pulled one of his books closer to him, preparing to leave, before Roman’s voice stopped him halfway. 

“Is that…are you taking sociology, by chance?” Roman said, pointing at the book in Virgil’s hand. 

“Uh…yes.” _Shitshitshitshitshit now he knows what classes you’re taking?? He’s your_ enemy, _you’re not supposed to tell them that!_

“Hm. We’re…we’re taking the same class. I don’t recall seeing you there, though.” 

“Mondays or Tuesdays?”

“Tuesdays.”

“That’s why,” Virgil managed to choke out. Why did this conversation feel so awkward? And why did he feel so flustered by a random dude who happened to take his class and maybe was a little bit attractive _but ALSO HE’S A COMPLETE DIVA WHO’S WAY OUT OF YOUR LEAGUE SO STOP IT RIGHT THERE_!  


Virgil blinked. After a moment of awkward silence, Roman asked, “Do you mind if I sit here?”

“I, uh…sure, I was actually just leaving,” Virgil said, not really sure why he felt like he was winded all of a sudden. 

He quickly packed up his things as Roman set his out and sped out of the library, not daring to look back at the diva who…was actually very kind and not that obnoxious. It kind of brought out some attractive features on Roman that Virgil hadn’t noticed beforehand. 

_Not that you are attracted to him in any way. Because that would be ridiculous. Because he’s probably out of your league and very, very straight…_

Virgil speedwalked his way out of the library at a record setting pace, more flustered than he thought he should be. 

* * *

_VIRGIL: We’ve got a problem._

_REMY: what is it?_

_VIRGIL: Ramen found me at the library._

_REMY: what did you do, sis??_

_VIRGIL: I booked it._

_REMY: you did what now??_

_VIRGIL: I panicked and ran. He recognized_

_me and it was really awkward. REALLY_ _awkward._

_REMY: so he didn’t follow you?_

_VIRGIL: Nope. Why?_

_REMY: no reason, just wanted to make sure_

_you were okay_

_VIRGIL: Thanks. Yeah, I’m all good._

* * *

Remy snickered from the break room of the coffeeshop. 

_Virgil’s going to kill me if he finds out I told Roman where he was,_ he thought with a smirk. _It’s okay. I’ll tell them at the wedding._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed it! I am so happy to see all the positive response so far!


	5. unfiltered.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil catches something that isn't a cold. Remy is...a determined coworker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Quick warning that there is some mild cursing in this chapter.

_4:45 a.m_.

The alarm clock on the nightstand in Virgil’s apartment glared back at him. He was almost sure he had won their little staring contest—though it’s debatable how one would quantify an alarm clock as “blinking” and Virgil was sure he’d rather get some sleep than claim a prize for the hours he’d spent just sitting there, wishing. He sighed, knowing that it was too late at this point to even try getting some rest.

_Get up. You’re going to work now._

He knew as soon as he stood up that it was going to be one of _those_ days: his feet were sore despite the fact that he hadn’t even worked yesterday, and he felt like someone had stuffed cotton balls into his head. _Cotton balls with spikes, maybe_. He picked out a plain back shirt and dark jeans, getting dressed as quickly as he could in the dark before grabbing his car keys.

Less than an hour later, and Virgil was at work, cleaning up the disorganized mess that Remy had left from his shift yesterday. He hardly felt the energy to voice his complaints to the man, who had walked in ten minutes late to opening.

“Virgil, I’m turning on the lights. Fair warning.”

Virgil squinted at the sudden brightness, taking a couple of seconds to reorient himself.

“Hold up,” Remy said, stepping closer to Virgil. He took the latter man’s chin in his hand, inspecting his face. “Uh, sweetie, you look like you just got run over by a train.”

“Thanks. Can I get back to work now? We open in 15,” Virgil mumbled, an eyebrow raised.

“No way. C’mon, we’re going to put makeup on you.” Remy grabbed Virgil by his wrist and tugged him towards the break room.

“Remy, I don’t have makeup.”

“You’re using mine. Sit down,” Remy commanded, stepping over to his backpack. He pulled out a couple of bottles of stuff Virgil recognized…vaguely. “If I can’t get you to sleep a decent amount, the least I can do is make you look like you did.”

“Remy, seriously. I have come to work looking like this before. Why does it only matter _now_?”

“Shush, or your eyeliner will get smudged.”

“ _Eyeliner_???”

Five minutes of bickering later and Virgil had a full face of makeup. He stared back at the little mirror Remy had handed him.

“Remy, I—I think you overdid it…” he trailed off. He hardly recognized the face in front of him. Remy had painted on elegantly winged eyeliner, a bloom of purple-red eyeshadow to match the matte lipstick Remy had applied…he had even managed to highlight Virgil’s cheekbones, something Virgil had secretly wanted to try for the longest time.

“If you feel pretty, then I overdid nothing,” Remy waved through the doorway. “Come on, we’re opening soon.”

The next two hours passed by in a flurry of activity—mostly from the early commuters and college students heading to morning classes. A lull only appeared at about eight o’clock, when the very first classes started. Virgil had gradually fallen into his usual work rhythm, helped by the fact that multiple people had complemented him on his makeup. After a couple of minutes, he spun around and leaned himself facing away from the door so he could confront Remy.

“Okay, so what’s the real reason you smothered me in makeup this morning?” he said, pointing an accusing finger at the latter man.

“Hm?” Remy responded. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“ _You_ wanted me to look nice today. And you used _eyeliner_. You told me that _you_ never use eyeliner unless you’re trying to _seduce_ some—”

“You have a customer, babe,” Remy interrupted, pointing at the register with a hint of a smirk. Virgil whipped around to see who—

_Oh God it’s him_.

Virgil had two very simultaneous realizations. One, that Remy was probably trying to set them up.

Two, that Roman looked incredibly attractive when he wore a tank top.

_Damn...he could probably bench me._

Virgil didn’t want to admit that his eyes had wandered to Roman’s biceps—he had no idea why he wanted to reach out an touch them, but he vehemently resisted the urge. It was evident the man had just come from some sort of morning jog by the fact that his hair looked tousled and windswept and his chest was still heaving slightly as if he had run all the way there.

He wasn’t sure why Roman’s look had caused time feel like it was slowing down. Or why…Roman was staring back with the same look of awe as Virgil felt.

Virgil hadn’t realized he was staring until Remy coughed behind them. Quickly he straightened himself and stuttered out a “What can I get for you today?”

He could’ve sworn he saw Roman blink himself out of a daze, too.

“Can I get a half caramel, half vanilla latte, decaf espresso with nonfat milk?” Virgil blinked and typed in the order, conscious of Roman’s eyes on him. Since when did he feel like he was being pinned to a wall by his gaze? Virgil’s hands slipped on the keypad twice before he was able to orient himself and read off the price.

_Snap out of it, Virgil!_ Why did he feel so anxious all of a sudden? Even the brush of their fingers when Virgil handed Roman back his card was enough to send him reeling.

_Chill out, it’s probably just the sleep depravation_ , he thought to himself, taking a deep breath. _Snap out of it and finish the job._

Virgil did his best to reorient himself, and he had nearly done it—except for one problem. Halfway through making Roman’s drink order, Remy leaned over to Virgil. “ _He was totally checking you out,_ ” he whispered, causing Virgil to stiffen.

“Bull. I’m not that interesting,” Virgil muttered back in an attempt to ignore Remy’s antics.

“Yes you are, sweetie,” Remy whispered. “He totally wants to bang.”

Virgil nearly spilled the drink. He uttered a couple of carefully worded insults at his partner before returning to the work at hand, putting on a façade to the patrons that nothing unusual had happened.

Remy snickered. “Just doing my civic duty here.”

“Go do your ‘civic duty’ somewhere else. You’ve got a customer.”

Virgil could feel Remy’s shit-eating grin from across the room, even with his back turned. When he finally finished the drink order, Remy was still “busy,” so Virgil went to the pickup counter to find Roman. Roman, who seemed to instantly materialize at the counter before Virgil even had a chance to call his name.

Upon seeing the man, Virgil again lost the words that were supposed to slip so naturally out of his mouth when he handed someone a drink. Instead, his shoulders froze and he got dangerously close to getting lost in his eyes before he was able to push the cup across the counter. He struggled to find the right words to say to finalize the order— _come on that’s my job you’re supposed to know what to say here now SAY SOMETHING_ —but he only managed to open and close his mouth before Roman finally broke the silence.

“I like your makeup, by the way,” Roman said with a grin, making Virgil question how long the silence actually was. “It’s a great look on you.”

“Oh, uh…thank you,” Virgil stuttered, hoping that the makeup was enough to cover the heat he was feeling in his face. _He’s…being…nice? But we’re mortal enemies??_ In a moment Virgil recovered his ability to act like a normal human being and gave Roman a quick and formal farewell, watching the latter man as he left the store.

He _almost_ felt bad for writing “Beef” on the name label.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Stay home, stay safe, and read on! <3


	6. Livin la Vida Mocha (pt. 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PART 1 
> 
> Virgil has a rough day at work. Someone intervenes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: Heavy cursing, implied homophobia, verbal assault, panic attack.

* * *

_REMY: virgeeeeeeee_

_VIRGIL: what._

_REMY: okay we need to talk about what_

_happened at work yesterday!_

_VIRGIL: It is five in the morning. I will see you_

_in a half an hour. Can it wait?_

_REMY: nope._

_REMY: anyhow_

_REMY: did you see him staring at you??? you  
guys were LOST in each other’s eyes it was_

_hilarious_

_VIRGIL: we were NOT lost in each other’s_

_eyes. he was probably just confused by the_

_fact that I was wearing makeup_

_VIRGIL: How long have you been thinking_

_about this??_

_REMY: he was totally staring. i saw him do_

_a double take. and YOU…_

_VIRGIL: don’t_

_REMY: come on he looks like a model. don’t_

_even try to deny it_

_REMY: you’re in loooove~_

_VIRGIL: do you know how childish you_

_sound when you say that. It’s ridiculous._

_VIRGIL: I barely know the guy_

_REMY: mhmmmm_

_REMY: anyhow you should bring your rainbow_

_pin to work today. I don’t want to be the only one_

_wearing one_

_VIRGIL: okay. see you in half an hour._

* * *

Virgil sighed. _This is getting ridiculous,_ he thought, shoving his phone into his jeans pocket and heading out to his car.

Half an hour later, Virgil was tying his apron on, the pride pin already attached. Remy hadn’t brung up the text conversation except for a suggestive smirk and eyebrow raise when he first walked through the doors. Virgil had only rolled his eyes and from there it was business as usual.

“You should wear some makeup again today,” Remy called from the kitchen. Virgil stepped out of the back room, rolling up the sleeves of his black shirt before he set to work cleaning off the tables in the commons.

“No.”

“Pleeeeease?” Remy said, stopping his work to lean forward on the counter. He gave his best impression of puppy eyes.

Virgil hesitated a minute, narrowing his eyes. “Fine. But only if you finish up in the _next five minutes_ ,” He said.

“Done!” Remy doubled down on the kitchen work faster than Virgil had ever witnessed before. The next five minutes were silent, save the sound of scrubbing and equipment being turned on.

Virgil sighed reluctantly as he wiped down one of the tables. The scrubbing had stopped a couple of seconds ago and he could feel Remy’s expectant eyes on his back. He decided to take his sweet time cleaning the last table before turning around, only to find that Remy had come out from behind the kitchen counter and was standing right behind him. To say he jumped would be an understatement.

Twenty minutes later, a smug Remy exited the back room to start serving customers. Virgil examined his new look for a moment before he too headed on to the floor. Remy, apparently, had decided that he wanted to outdo himself. The look was similar to the one from the other day, except he had added an intricate white flower (white eyeliner?? Virgil wasn’t sure) right over one of the black eyeliner wings. Along with extra mascara, Virgil noticed with another blink. He quickly put away Remy’s mirror compact and made his way onto the floor, hoping not to attract too much attention. However, he soon discovered that attracting attention would be the least of his worries.

The moment he stepped out, he saw there was an unprecedented line of customers waiting to be served. Remy had already stepped away from the register to help the first customer, soVirgil slipped in to help the next person.

The line never disappeared after they opened shop—two hours in, and there hadn’t even been a lull. Virgil’s feet were starting to hurt again from pacing around the kitchen to get drinks delivered in a reasonable time, and he was sure Remy felt the same. It was about 8:30 when Remy turned around and gave Virgil a quick hand signal.

_Oh no. That means nightmare customer incoming._ Remy left the register after taking a customer’s order, and Virgil knew instantly by Remy’s concerned facial expression that he was going to be serving said nightmare customer.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Roman enter the shop and get in the back of the line. Virgil wasn’t sure why that suddenly compelled him to step up to the register.

Remy was right about the nightmare customer. The man in front of Virgil wore a scowl on his face and had crossed his arms, looking like he was straight out of a mafia movie. Virgil put on his best friendly façade as the man looked him up and down.

It made Virgil feel like he was sizing him up to kill.

“Fucking finally,” he muttered.

“Sorry for the wait, sir. How can I help you today?” The niceties didn’t seem to help. The man’s scowl only deepened, and Virgil gripped his hands on the side of the register to keep them from shaking. He’d heard stories of nightmare customers before, and this wasn’t setting up to be any better.

“Coffee. I just want a coffee.”

“Alright,” Virgil said carefully. “Would you like any additives, or just black coffee, sir?”

“Don’t fucking patronize me, kid. You heard me the first time,” He growled. Virgil flinched. _Did I say something wrong? Why is he so loud? Why is everyone staring at me??_

Virgil felt his muscles tensing up, and he wished he could run into the back room and hide. He quickly typed in the order, blinking to clear the blurriness in his eyes.

_At least it’s just black coffee. It’s just black coffee. It’s the easiest thing to make. You can make black coffee._

He read off the order, and it didn’t seem to cause any upset in this nightmare customer (named Tom, apparently). Grabbing a cup, Virgil got started on the drink. Remy gave him a pat of reassurance on his shoulder halfway through making it, seeming to notice that the drink Virgil was making was shaking more than normal. He couldn’t help it, though—Tom was just standing at the pickup counter. Staring. He tried to ignore it, but the man’s eyes were focused on him. _Creepy,_ Virgil thought as he set a lid on the coffee cup and slid it across the counter.

“Have a nice day,” He said softly, turning around to get as far away from the man as possible.

“ _Hey_ ,” Tom shouted. _No no no please no please no_ … “Come back here.” Virgil turned around stiffly to see the man glaring back at him with beady eyes. The lid was off the coffee and he looked like he had just been examining it before Virgil turned around. “You didn’t add any cream to this.”

“I—I’m sorry, sir, my understanding was that you wanted black coffee—”

“ _BLACK COFFEE?_ I told you I wanted a _coffee_ , not a _black_ coffee. Where the hell is the cream?” Roman moved out of the line.

“Sir, we have some cream over there that you can add—”

“What kind of shit coffee shop doesn’t provide _normal coffee_?”

“I’m sorry, sir, I can remake the drink if you would l—”

“No, I don’t want you to remake it, I want you to explain why the hell you don’t give _normal coffee!”_

Suddenly he flung his arm forward, splashing the coffee directly in Virgil’s face.

The next few seconds moved in slow motion. There was some sort of reaction from the patrons, but he couldn’t hear anything over the blood rushing in his ears. He was paralyzed by the shock, but after that wore off, he suddenly felt the stinging burns from the hot coffee over his face and arms.

Roman had stepped forward to the customer. He said something to the man, and the man responded, the anger in his face only seeming to grow. Then there was a twitch on Roman’s face, before he drew back his hand and punched Tom directly in the jaw. There was another reaction. Virgil felt an arm wrap around his waist, and it led him to the back room.

He was sitting down. Whoever helped him was gone. He wasn’t sure how long he was alone, only that his face hurt. And arms. But he was shivering, at the same time.

He didn’t notice when someone came into the back room, but he felt when they slipped their hand through his. He thought they were saying something to him, but he couldn’t hear it. The feeling of pressure on his hand did help, though.

Gradually his hearing began to return, alongside his vision. He realized he was staring at the hand that was holding his, but he couldn’t move his head just yet. He needed to stay still. _Why is their hand red on the knuckles?_ Virgil’s thoughts were still scattered, but he began to hear a voice whispering to him.

“Good, you’re doing good, Virgil. Breathe in with me, okay? Try to breathe in. 1, 2, 3, 4…”

Virgil tried, he really did, and he got to 3 counts before he let out another sob.

_Wait, am I crying?_

“Good, let’s try again. In for four, then hold…” Virgil didn’t quite hear the rest. _Whose hand is this?_

This time he reached four counts, then held it four a couple before he had to exhale.

“In for four seconds, hold for seven, out for eight. You’re doing great,” they said. A few minutes passed and Virgil was able to get his breathing under control. He felt a little dizzy, and the sensation of pain in his head and across his face was starting to return in dull throbs. His attention returned to the hand holding his own when the person squeezed it.

“I’m going to get a towel. I’ll be right back. Are you going to be okay for a second?” Virgil nodded, still refusing to look whoever it was in the face. He watched as their hand slipped from his own, leaving a cold void where it had been. There were grey-black streaks across his hand and arm that he hadn’t noticed before.

_Makeup streaks? Oh. My makeup’s probably ruined now. I hope Remy doesn’t mind._

The person came back, wrapping their hand back in Virgil’s. The reassurance felt…nice, oddly enough. Virgil noticed black running shoes in front of the hand. He squinted, finally urging his neck upwards so he could see who was there with him.

When he finally reached the face, he had to blink twice to process what he was seeing.

“Roman?” He rasped. _What…? It was_ him _? How—why—_

“Hey, Virge. You okay?” Virgil stared back, momentarily forgetting that he was supposed to respond. His heart was beating a little too fast. _He called me Virge?_

“Uh, y-yeah. My face hurts.”

“I’m sorry. That must have been terrifying,” he said, his brows furrowed. “Here. I brought a towel to help clean you off.” He passed over the towel, and Virgil was glad to have an excuse to hide his face in something. Even though it meant he had to relinquish his grip on Roman’s hand.

“You…did you punch him?” Virgil asked tentatively, his voice muffled by the towel as he cleaned off the left half of his face.

“…Yes,” Roman said. He lifted up his hand to examine it. “It was…provoked.”

Virgil furrowed his brows. “Provoked? What did he say?” Roman bit his lip, glancing off towards the door of the break room. _Damn…that’s kind of attrac—_ _no, Virgil, stop that_.

“I mean, on top of actually _assaulting_ you, he also said a couple of slurs.”

“Wh- Do I want to know?” Virgil cringed as he wiped off the last bit of makeup from his cheek. The towel stung against the raw skin of his face.

“They were highly insensitive. And homophobic,” Roman added with a glance to Virgil’s pin. “I’m sorry.”

“You—you didn’t do anything, why are you sorry?” Virgil said, puzzled. _Did I miss something?_

“No,” Roman said, “I just meant I’m sorry you have to deal with people like this all the time. It isn’t fair.”

Virgil had just moved onto cleaning his arms, but he set down the towel to meet Roman’s eyes again, pretending that the red on his cheeks was from the burns. His eyes flicked back to cleaning off the coffee under the intensity of his gaze.

“I—I mean, I gotta make money somehow,” he deflected with a dry laugh. The crease on Roman’s brow only deepened. “And—and it’s alright, I mean, this is the first time it’s been _really_ bad.”

“I hope it’s the last,” Roman said, leaning back and settling himself against the wall of the break room. In the silence that descended on them, Virgil realized that he—well, _they_ , now—had been sitting on the floor in the corner of the room, rather than in one of the break room chairs. He wondered how he had gotten there before Roman broke the silence again. “I don’t know how well you’ll remember what happened, but Remy called the police when the dude started verbally assaulting you. They escorted him out, and I think they might have arrested him. In any case, he’s not allowed back here.”

Virgil let out a small smile, putting down the towel. “Thanks, Roman. For—everything. I really appreciate it.”

Roman grinned back; _that beautiful, beautiful grin_. “Of course.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 coming soon!


	7. Livin la Vida Mocha (pt. 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil goes home, with some help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No major warnings for this chapter!

Remy sauntered into the back room a couple minutes after Roman and Virgil’s exchange, having finally caught a lull in the customer traffic. He looked exhausted as he threw himself into one of the break room chairs near Virgil, wordlessly handing him a cup of water.

“How are you feeling, hon?” Remy murmured, inspecting his friend. His knees were drawn into his chest, but his shoulders weren’t as stiff or tense as they were when Remy had first pulled him into the break room and away from the fight.

Virgil took a small sip before responding. “I mean, I feel a little better. My face doesn’t hurt so much and I am slowly sinking into a comfortable numb.” Roman raised a brow.

“Ah, deflecting with humor,” Remy said before turning to Roman. “He does that a lot, you’ll get used to it.” Before either one of them had time to process that statement, Remy continued. “Anyhow, I contacted the manager and she said she wants you to take the rest of the day off, Virge. Go home and get some sleep.”

“Oh—okay,” Virgil said softly. “But I really don’t think it’s the best idea for me to be driving right now.” He held out a shaky hand to demonstrate. “Maybe I should stay here a bit longer?”

“Virge, you really need to go home—and I wouldn’t say it unless I meant it. I can give you some money if you need to take public transit.” Roman glanced over at Virgil, who seemed to cave in on himself at that statement. He frowned.

“I—I could also take you, if that would help. I know being around a lot of people after a panic attack can be difficult.”

Virgil swallowed, furrowing his brows. _I either take public transit and be surrounded by people I don’t know who will probably stare at me and whisper…or I take a ride home with a guy who just helped me calm down from a panic attack._

“O-only if it’s not too much trouble.”

“It’s not. Don’t worry about it,” Roman said, giving Virgil a sincere smile. The latter man stared back, not quite processing the response.

“Virgil, babe, go ahead and grab all your stuff, I’m just going to talk to Roman a second…get everything finalized,” Remy said. He wasted no time to jump up and grab Roman by his sleeve, tugging him out of the back room. Once he had closed the door behind him, Remy produced a notepad and sharpie out of seemingly nowhere.

“Okay, let’s start from the top. License plate number?”

“W-what?”

“Virgil is vulnerable and if anything happens to him…if there is a scratch on his body that wasn’t there before you drove him home then I want to know every way to track down the perpetrator and murder him. I don’t care who you are, he is my best friend and I will keep him safe no matter what. License plate number,” Remy said with a polite yet intimidating grin.

“Uh—okay, it’s KWS160,” Roman blinked, trying to shake off the surprise. Remy scribbled it into his notebook.

“Okay, next. I need your car model, number, brand. Phone number, home address, social security number. ”

“ _Social security number_?!”

——

It took Virgil a couple of minutes to get up and gather all his stuff in the daze he was in, and he nearly spilled the cup of water on himself multiple times. When he finally made it out of the breakroom, he saw Remy slip away a notepad into his pocket and smile.

“Hey, Virge! We were just chatting. Right, Roman?” Remy grinned.

“R-right,” Roman said, with a nervous laugh. He took a glance at Virgil and gave him a small smile. “You ready?”

“Y-yeah, I think so.”

Remy nodded, before pulling Virgil into a light hug. “Take care of yourself, okay?”

“Okay,” Virgil whispered, blinking. The world still seemed to be passing by in a blur, and Virgil hardly realized when Roman led him out to his car.

“Hey. Virgil. You still with me?” Oh. Roman was in the driver’s seat now. His brows were furrowed and he seemed to be searching Virgil’s eyes. “Do you need a second?”

“What? Uh, yeah. No! I mean, no. I’m good. Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. You didn’t do anything wrong. Will you be able to give me directions to your place?”

“Y-yeah. No, I’m going to be okay. I’m just a little disoriented, is all,” He said softly, frowning when he saw that his seatbelt was already on. _Did I do that?_

Roman nodded, starting the engine. “Just let me know if you feel like the symptoms are coming back.”

Virgil stared out the window, giving quiet directions when he needed to. He gradually became more aware of his surroundings: the sleeve of his shirt that still smelled like coffee, the grey dashboard, the trees they passed that began to look more and more familiar as they got closer to the apartment. The ride had been mostly silent, save the occasional passing comment.

“How are you feeling?” Roman asked in one of the beats of silence.

“Better, I think,” Virgil murmured. “Just tired.”

“Hopefully you’ll be home soon,” he assured the latter man.

Virgil swallowed, stealing a glance at Roman. His hair was slightly frizzy, and Virgil noticed when he glanced at his hands on the steering wheel that the redness on his knuckles hadn’t gone away.

Something in the back of his head urged Virgil to be anxious about the fact that a near stranger was driving him to his apartment— _he could easily kidnap me. Or just murder me. Or something far worse—_ but the numbness and exhaustion he felt, for once in his life, seemed to be preventing that. Instead he leaned back in the passenger seat, letting his eyes flutter open and closed. He didn’t really mind the silence. It was peaceful, not awkward like Virgil was used to. Though, he realized, that could be because the exhaustion was taking away even his energy to care.

“Your friend Remy tried to get my social security number, you know.”

“What? When?” Virgil raised a brow.

“When you went to pack up your stuff. He cornered me and had me give him my address, phone number, license plate, you know. I did _not_ give him my social. But, uh, he really does care about you.” A small smile appeared on Roman’s lips.

Virgil laughed. “Of course he did, that, that dork.”

The car fell silent again for a couple of seconds before Roman spoke up again. “I—I don’t mean to be presumptuous, but, uh…are you guys…” Virgil raised a brow.

“A couple? No. Definitely not. He is _so_ not my type,” he laughed, not missing the way Roman’s shoulders seemed to relax.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to pry,” he rushed, trying to manage the flush on his face.

“It’s fine. I know, it might look like it with the pride pins and the whole overprotectiveness thingy, but…he’s really more like my own personal wine aunt except thirstier.” Roman snorted, nearly missing the next turn in the process.

“That is the most amazing description of a person I have ever heard. I will never be able to think of him the same way again,” he laughed, an infectious laugh that even convinced Virgil to join in.

“Seriously, though, that dude is literally the thirstiest person I know. He wears that pride pin so he can try to scope out the guys, and he has this full system to find out whether or not someone’s gay.”

“Oh, wow. That is…thirsty.”

“Yeah,” Virgil giggled, subconsciously putting a hand up to cover his mouth. He didn’t see the look of concern that flashed over Roman for a millisecond before it was covered up. “He’s nice, though. And he does like to make an event of it, so usually he’ll text me and ask me to wear mine when he does. Usually it’s fun, too. Except for days like…this.”

Roman swallowed. “Days, plural?”

“N-not frequent ones, I promise. It’s pretty rare we get an actual homophobe. Most people don’t actually care.” Roman nodded just as they turned into the parking lot. Soon the car pulled to a stop outside Virgil’s apartment complex, and Virgil reluctantly moved to unbuckle his seatbelt and step out of the car when he noticed Roman doing the same. Roman seemed to catch on to Virgil’s train of thought and smiled shyly.

“I’ll walk you up. If—If you’re okay with that?”

Virgil huffed, a residual smile playing on his face. “Guess chivalry’s not dead after all,” He joked. Roman grinned, closing his door and locking the car behind him before he walked around to meet Virgil. He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jacket, conveniently covering the red on his knuckles.

“Shall we?” Roman said, and Virgil nodded, feeling something tighten in his chest at the gesture. They walked the short distance to the complex and up the stairs to Virgil’s dwelling, Virgil gradually getting used to the feeling of walking on shaky legs.

It was weird, to say the least—Virgil usually felt the residual effects of a panic attack a lot longer than he had today. He wasn’t quite sure what that meant, but he had the strange and sudden thought that it might have to do with a certain someone walking next to him, his relaxed look betraying that hidden heart of gold underneath.

That little all-knowing grin Virgil had originally written off as an egocentric know-it-all look was really just…friendly. Soft, underneath all those layers of extra-ness. Virgil smiled to himself before realizing that he’d been staring at the man and snapped his head forward again. The warm feeling on his cheeks still didn’t fade.

“Well, here we are,” Virgil said, stopping suddenly. He pulled out his apartment key and placed it in the lock without too much trouble. When the door opened, he turned back to Roman, who was now leaning against the wall in a way that reminded him of a lead romantic interest in some cheesy high school romcom. He even had the smug grin to complete the set. Virgil cleared his throat, trying to cover up the sudden blush he felt creeping into his face. _Since when does this dude literally look like a model?_

“You feeling better?” Roman asked gently.

“Uh—y-yeah. I’m feeling—feeling more better.” He stuttered. “ _More better?”, Virgil? Damn it, snap out of disaster gay mode!_

Roman just chuckled, that little twinkle returning to his eyes. “I’m happy I had the chance to talk to you today, Virgil. Even if it was under…unusual circumstances.”

_Wait…is he flirting with me??_ “Y-yeah. Me—me too. Thanks. For, uh, for everything.” Virgil fiddled with the sleeve of his black shirt, tugging out a thread in the seam. _He can’t possibly be flirting with me, can he? Can he??_

“I do have one question, though…” Roman said. Virgil swallowed. “Why do you keep writing Ramen o—”

“Idon’tknowwhatyou’retalkignaboutgoodbyeRoman!” Virgil rushed suddenly, giving the baffled man one last wave before slipping into his apartment room, shutting the door with a relieved sigh.

Roman stared at the empty space that once was Virgil for a second or two before he burst into laughter, shaking his head in disbelief. With a start, he turned on his heel towards the staircase, a skip finding its way into his step. His cheeks were rosy as he thought of the strange, wonderful day he had had and the strange, wonderful barista he just dropped off.

He’d have to ask Remy later what kind of flowers Virgil liked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that new sleep tiktok is definitely going to come into this fic at some point...muahahahaha


	8. The Flat White Incident

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil diverts his Gay Disaster Energy to r a g e.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I know it's been a while but I'm happy to post this next chapter! I have been busy working on my largest fic, which is consuming a lot of my time/energy, but I still think I will be able to post another chapter after this in the next few days. Whoop whoop
> 
> WARNINGS: Suggestive language and cursing throughout.

* * *

_REMY: Virgil_

_REMY: Virge_

_REMY: virgey babe_

_REMY: virgilicious_

_VIRGIL: Remy I swear to God_

_VIRGIL: what_

_VIRGIL: Also, what the hell was_

_that last nickname?_

_REMY: that was Ramen’s idea_

_actually_

_REMY: speaking of your boyfriend_

_look at this cute picture I took (_ ͡ _°_ ͜ _ʖ_ ͡ _° )_

_REMY sent a photo._

* * *

Virgil squinted at the bright screen. He had practically collapsed onto his bed as soon as he got home--after Roman _drove_ him home--from his stressful day at work, hiding his face in his pillow as if someone might actually be able to see the residual red flush on his cheeks from his encounter with the man in question. He hadn’t realized he had fallen asleep until the buzzing of his phone woke him up again. To his surprise, it looked like he’d already been sleeping for nearly an hour.

With a lazy tap he clicked on the photo so he could see it better.

There in front of him was a picture of Roman—Roman, who Remy had obviously captured mid-laugh. He had a little dusting of pink on his cheeks, little crinkles in the corners of his eyes, and his hair was mussed just right to make him look…

Well, to put it frankly, he looked attractive as _hell_. And even though Virgil wasn’t literally in front of the man, he flushed, his eyes flicking away from the picture as if to hide himself from Roman’s impeccable gaze.

Then, suddenly, he noticed the drink in Roman’s hand, and he shot out of bed, returning to the text conversation in a flurry.

* * *

_VIRGIL: Okay first of all._

_You're a traitor._

_VIRGIL: Secondly, he is not my_

_boyfriend_

_VIRGIL: Thirdly._

_VIRGIL: Is that a fucking FLAT  
WHITE?!_

_VIRGIL: Did he seriously just get_

_a flat white.  
VIRGIL: nothing special._

_VIRGIL: no adds._

_VIRGIL: nothing._

_VIRGIL: A_

_VIRGIL: FUCKING_

_VIRGIL: FLAT_

_VIRGIL: WHITE_

* * *

Remy snickered from his spot against the counter. “Ohh, he’s going to beat my ass tomorrow.”

“What did you _say_ to him?” Roman laughed, a brow raised. “Was it the Virgilicious thing? Because that was totally worth it.”

“Oh, honey, that was the least of his complaints,” Remy said. “He saw your—oh god he’s going to murder me—” Remy broke into hiccuping laughs. “He spotted—the drink order on your cup—from the picture I sent him.” The barista tipped his head back, barely able to contain the laughter.

“Uh oh. We’re screwed, aren’t we.”

“We’re sooo dead. He’s started calling us both traitors. Oh, that one’s new.”

“What?”

“You don’t even want to know,” Remy said as Roman took another sip of his flat white.

* * *

_REMY: so I take it you like_

_the photo?_ 😏

_VIRGIL: Remy I swear to God_

_VIRGIL: He’s not there still_

_is he?_

_REMY: …maybe he is_

_REMY: you better stop roasting us_

_tho, or he might not come back_

_tmrw_ 🥺🥺

_VIRGIL: the roasting is deserved_

_VIRGIL: and it’s not like he can_

_see this conversation_

_VIRGIL: He’s not reading this,_

_right?_

_VIRGIL: Remy??_

_VIRGIL: REMY FUCKING SANDERS_

* * *

Virgil’s face burned red as he typed frantically, praying that Remy was joking for once.

Meanwhile, Remy cackled into his phone, watching the panicked texts come in.

“What’s happening?”

“Virgil flipped his shit at the idea that you might be reading this whole text conversation,” Remy giggled.

“But…I’m not?”

Remy grinned evilly. “He doesn’t need to know that,” he said, tucking the unanswered phone into his apron pocket. “C’mon, sit down, hon,” Remy said, gesturing to the bar stools across the near section of the countertop. “I want to hear about the ride home.”

“Uh,” Roman said, glancing at the apron pocket that was still buzzing with incoming texts. “Well, there’s not too much to tell, really. I mean, he seemed fine. A little out of it, naturally, but fine. We just made some small talk, I walked him up to his apartment room, tried to ask him why he always writes Ramen on my coffee cup, though that didn’t exactly work,” Roman said with a chuckle, and Remy noticed a little pinkness on his cheeks and the tips of his ears. “Do _you_ know why he does it, by the way?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Remy said, suddenly very interested in his nails.

Roman narrowed his eyes.

“Anyways, Roman, you walked him up to his room? Guess chivalry’s not dead after all.”

“That’s…exactly what he said,” Roman said, scratching the back of his neck.

“Mhm. Figures. So when are you going to ask him out?”

Roman spat out his coffee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be sure to leave a kudos and/or a comment if you liked it! Also, you can now follow me on tumblr (@cryptic-stories) if you want to know more about my inspiration for the works, or just want to chat :P
> 
> Stay safe, everyone!


	9. Decaf Revenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil's determined to get revenge on Roman. Remy and the universe have other plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for cursing!! (especially right at the start, whoops)

“A fucking _flat white,_ Remy!”

“I know, hon.”

“And you didn’t even return my texts!”

“Have to keep you guessing sometimes, y’know.”

“He could’ve been reading those! And then he would’ve seen all the times you called him my _boyfriend_ and he’d be weirded out and—” Virgil buried his face in his hands. “Uhg. I hate everything. Why did he order a _flat white_?”

Virgil’s quasi-interrogation wasn’t going as well as planned, he decided. He had cornered Remy in the breakroom that morning in the hopes of finally getting some answers about what had happened, but his two and a half hours of sleep from the previous night had nulled his ability to form a coherent chain of thought and the conversation had quickly devolved into a flustered rant session.

“I think I have an idea,” Remy murmured, scrolling through his phone as Virgil paced back and forth.

“Yeah. This dude just wants to pester the heck out of me. You know what? This is war between him and I. And I’m going to win.”

“Or you could…admit that you like him?” Remy shrugged.

“WHAT?” Virgil said, louder than he had meant. “I’m not—I can’t—he doesn’t like me! Didn’t you notice? He ordered a flat white just to get on my nerves!” Virgil said, his hands flying around and making wild gestures as he paced. With the dark circles under his eyes, all he needed was a bulletin board, some loose paper, and a ton of red string to complete the cryptid aesthetic he had going.

“Uh…don’t you think this might be a bit of an overreaction for a coffee order?”

“I’m not overreacting!”

Remy raised a brow, waiting until they made eye contact to speak. “You’re gay as fuck, Virgil.”

“Yeah, so?”

“ _So_ , are you trying to fight him or f— uh, date him?”

“Fight! He’s deliberately trying to get on my nerves, and I have to enact my _revenge!_ Aren’t you listening?”

Remy sighed, immune to his friend’s antics. “Fighting is not the best way of getting the date, Virgilicious.”

Virgil mumbled something along the lines of ‘it’s easier that way…’ before turning on his heel, storming out of the breakroom to get started on the cleaning.

“It’s not like he’s into men, anyways,” he added over his shoulder. Remy stood up from his seat in the breakroom, dropping his phone into an apron pocket and following the purple-haired barista out. He leaned against the countertop, watching Virgil fumble distractedly with the machines.

“Suuuuure. Just watch him today when—and I mean _when_ because that dude is here like every day—he comes inside, because I’m absolutely sure that his eyes will go straight to you. And that’s like, a direct indicator, babe.”

Virgil raised a brow. “Okay. Bet. You stand guard at the cash register. If he looks at you first then he’s not into me. Simple as that.”

“So if he immediately starts searching for you, then I win?” Remy clarified, and Virgil nodded. “How much are you betting here?”

“I—I don’t know. I don’t have much money to spare.”

“Seriously? You work here almost every single day.”

“All my money’s going to college. I’m paying on my own, remember?” Virgil responded, flicking a couple of switches to turn on the machinery.

“Right,” Remy said, more to himself than anyone else. Suddenly an idea popped into his head. “Well, Virgil…I have something else we could wager.”

“Why does it sound like I’m going to regret this?” Virgil muttered.

Remy smirked. “You won’t. Trust me.”

“Spit it out, then.”

“Okay, so…If _you_ win the wager, then I will cover a week’s worth of shifts for you. To be used whenever you would like.”

“Why is this making me _more_ anxious?” Virgil murmured, kneeling down to plug in one of the machines.

“And if _I_ win the wager, then you give him your phone number,” Remy said.

“What.”

“That’s only if you lose the wager, Virge. Which you seemed pretty confident you wouldn’t.”

“You can’t be serious,” Virgil said, shaking his head. He stepped around where Remy was standing and went to put down chairs. “ _He doesn’t like me_.”

Remy raised a brow. “You like him.”

Virgil’s hands stilled on the chair he was holding.

“HA! You _do_ like him. Called it.”

“Remy! It’s not—no, I just—” Virgil couldn’t think of the words to finish that sentence. What was there to say, really? He could feel his face reddening despite himself. “He’s just a café patron. I hardly know him, how could I—” He cut himself off again, pulling down the chair in his hands and setting it on the floor.

“Virgil. I have known you for long enough to know _the look_ ,” Remy responded, his voice softer now. “But all he’s ever going to be is a patron unless you make a _move_.”

“But he’s literally my rival. You’ve heard his ridiculous coffee orders. I swear he’s just trying to get back at me for something.”

“OR, he’s trying to spend more time with you? It would explain why he only ordered a flat white when _I_ was the server—he likes your company best.”

Virgil scoffed. “Right. Wishful thinking.”

“We’ll see about that,” Remy murmured to himself.

——

It wasn’t like Virgil had _hoped_ for Roman to walk through those doors. Definitely not. And Virgil’s heart absolutely was _not_ threatening to burst out of his chest every single time the bell on the door rung for the rest of that morning.

And it definitely wasn’t true that _just as Virgil was beginning to calm down and convince himself that maybe Roman wasn’t coming_ that the man found the audacity to walk _right through those fucking doors_ with his _adorable ass grin_ that had singlehandedly murdered Virgil’s circadian rhythm.

…so you can get those images out of your head.

Virgil was, in fact, busy on a chai latte order when the Bane of His Existence sauntered in, looking unfairly relaxed and _stylish_ (I mean, who the hell gave him the right??). At this point Virgil was barely glancing up to see who walked through the doors, but something on this patron’s outfit caught his attention and forced his gaze upwards.

He knew when their eyes met that he was utterly, utterly _screwed_.

Virgil whirled around before the latte spilled over. He tried to cool the rising flush that was already burning on his cheeks and the tips of his ears. _Nope, nope, nope, nope, nooooooo—_

_Maybe if I just pretend I didn’t see him, then Remy can’t—_

“Hey _Roman~_ ” Remy drawled. Virgil didn’t have to turn around this time to _feel_ the smirk in his voice.

_Shit. Shitshitshitshit._

Visions of phone numbers and texting, _texting!_ , flew through his head and Virgil began to feel dizzy. He quickly put a lid on the latte and passed it across the bar to an oblivious customer before reluctantly making his way to the register, where, to his relief, Remy was already beginning Roman’s order.

Virgil grabbed a cup and scribbled _Ramen_ on it without a second thought—but his Sharpie hovered over the blank space just underneath it. His fingers twitched once, twice, before dropping to his sides.

_I can’t. I can’t do that to him._

Remy glanced over from their conversation. “Y’know, Virgilicious, you’re awfully quiet today?” He asked teasingly, his eyes flicking down to the coffee cup and back up to his face.

“3/10, bad nickname,” Virgil responded, trying to ignore the way Roman scoffed and put a manicured hand to his chest in mock horror. “ And I am quiet because Roman and I have some _beef_ ,” he added, pointing an accusing finger at the man in question. None of Virgil's efforts, however, concealed the playful look dancing just behind his eyes that made Roman's heart melt just a little.

“Uh, actually, I’m vegetarian,” Roman said.

Both of the baristas stared at him for a moment before Virgil snorted.

“Roman, no—" He said, trying to force down the giggles that were threatening to bubble up to the surface. 

"Roman, _yes_ ," Remy and Roman both said in unison, and the three of them burst into laughter. 

For the two baristas, it was nothing more than a simple, two-braincell joke. But in that moment time stopped for Roman. His own laugh died down, his expression instead melting into that of awe as he stared at a particular black-clad barista.

He had never seen Virgil _laugh_ before. And the last time he had heard a giggle, Virgil tried to cover it up. This time, though—this time it was ringing out through the cafe, a private concert for only the patrons to enjoy.

It was angelic. It was adorable.

Roman was falling _hard_.

The sound of a throat clearing snapped his attention back to the present, where Remy was giving him a side eye. Virgil glanced between the two of them, confused, before Remy finally spoke up.

“Well, loves, it looks like someone is calling me soo…I trust you can take care of the order, Virgey?” Remy took two steps backwards, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively in Roman's direction. 

Virgil huffed, shaking his head and pretending not to see...whatever it was that Remy was doing. “Really with the nickname? And isn’t your phone in the back room?”

“Yes, but…someone is totes calling me right now. Bye!” Remy slipped into the break room before Virgil could get another word in edgewise.

Leaving the two of them alone.

_Remy, you little shit,_ Virgil thought, his cheeks tinting pink. Remy really wasn't going to let him live this down, was he? 

The barista was tempted to let out a slew of curse words right then and there. 

“So are you really a vegetarian or are you just avoiding confrontation?” Virgil asked instead, folding his arms across his chest.

Roman hummed, a smirk playing on his lips. “You know, most people have to ask me out on a date before they learn that information.” He let the line sit for an agonizingly long second before continuing. “But, I suppose I can make an exception. Just this once,” he added with a wink. Virgil debated if he should call the ambulance now or wait until he collapsed from the heart attack he was sure he was having.

Flushing face? Check. Irregular heartbeat? Check. Dizziness? Check. Chest pain and/or shortness of breath? Check and check. Yep, he was definitely having a heart attack.

“And your answer is?” Virgil prompted, trying to play off the first half of Roman’s statement as a joke.

“Yes to both. I’m a vegetarian, and I’m _really_ scared of what you look like when you’re mad.”

“Uh huh,” Virgil said, raising a brow. “So why, then, did you risk my wrath by letting Remy make you a _flat white_?” Roman was laughing now, but Virgil couldn’t be sure whether it was out of fear or genuine entertainment.

“Well, you see, I didn’t have my trusted barista to ensure that my drink was done _properly_! Usually they mess it up.”

“Sure, pretty boy. You better start groveling before Remy overhears what you just said.” The words slipped out of Virgil’s mouth before he had even registered what he said, and his face heated up as Roman smirked.

“You think I’m pretty?”

Virgil huffed, trying to hide his own grin. “‘Most people have to ask me out on a date before they learn that information,’” he quoted.

_Critical hit_. Roman spluttered, unprepared to have his his own line used against him. Virgil grinned triumphantly.

“So, what can I get started for you?” he added before Roman could fire anything back at him.

Roman stared for a moment, taking in the man’s smug grin that was just barely shining through his professional stance. He narrowed his eyes.

_There’s no way he’s getting the last word here,_ he thought, and soon the flustered expression turned into a grin of his own as he opened his mouth to order.

“Salted caramel mocha latte with soy milk, cinnamon, and no whip.”

“Son of a—”

“Babe!” Remy called out from behind Virgil, knocking the barista out of his semi-homicidal, semi-panicking headspace and into reality. The barista sauntered back to the counter and hip-bumped Virgil away from the register. “I’ll finish up, you start the drink,” he said with a wink. Virgil shot him a withering glare before turning on his heel.

As soon as Virgil was out of earshot (the coffee grinder blocked out quite a bit of sound) Remy leaned over the counter to whisper.

“Flowers are a go. He likes the color purple.”

“Are you sure? How’d you find out?” Roman whispered back, quirking a brow.

“I called his ex,” the barista shrugged. Roman’s eyes widened.

“ _You called his—_ ” Roman cut himself off, stealing a glance at Virgil (who thankfully still had his back turned… _wait, was he writing something on the cup?_ ) before he continued, voice dropping back to a whisper. “You can’t just call people’s exes, Remy! That’s like, the first rule of being a wingman. Bad things could happen!”

“Relax, his ex is super chill. And they’re still friends, so it’s _fine_.”

“ _It is not f—_ ” Roman faked clearing his throat when he saw Virgil turn around and walk towards one of the closer pieces of equipment. Remy shot Roman a smug grin when he finally looked back, causing his face to heat up far more than he would’ve liked.

When it was clear Virgil was finishing with the drink, Remy’s back straightened and he resumed typing into the register as if nothing had happened. “Will that be all for you today?”

Roman sighed, exasperated. _This day can’t get weirder, can it?_

——

The conversation with Roman rushed by in a whirlwind, and it took Virgil a full minute after he had been forcefully removed from the front counter to completely register what they had just done.

Flirting.

Roman had _flirted_ with him. And worse, Virgil had flirted _back._

Or at least he thought he had. Had he?

_Can that even be quantified as flirting?_ He wondered to himself as he turned on the coffee grinder, trying not to steal any glances at the subject in question. _I mean, we just tossed around some banter and it was kind of more like a fight than anyth—_

_‘You think I’m pretty?’_

Virgil blinked, his face flushing all over again.

_Okay, yeah, that was kind of flirting._

_Holy shit. I flirted with Roman._

Virgil lifted the drink too fast and nearly spilled hot coffee on his fingers. With a start, he remembered his deal with Remy as he stared at the large amount of blank space still left on the cup. He swallowed hard, stealing a glance at Roman out of the corner of his eye. As stealthily as he could, he drew a Sharpie out of his apron, twirling it in his fingers as he contemplated what he was about to do.

His heart fluttered at the idea of late-night texts from a pretty guy—from _that_ pretty guy across the bar who kept stealing glances at him.

But was that really fair? To give his phone number so _early?_

What if he scared Roman off? Never got to see him again?

He was stepping into unknown territory here. No longer in the safe space he had been for years now.

Suddenly a lightbulb flashed on in his head, and he put the Sharpie to the cup, writing it out before he had time to overthink the idea.

Remy sauntered over soon after, apparently finished with the transaction. As Roman waited at the end of the bar seating, the barista leaned on him in a not-at-all subtle way, his eye flicking once between Virgil and the cup he was already handing over. Virgil tipped his head towards Roman, thrusting the drink into Remy’s hands and walking away to end their little nonverbal chat before Remy could ask any questions.

He knew the plan was set in motion when he heard Remy call “Mocha latte for Ramen!” from across the cafe. Virgil had already started helping another waiting customer, but even without seeing Roman he recognized the sound of his spluttering as he picked up the drink.

The customer probably had no idea why Virgil started grinning halfway through typing their matcha latte order into the register. Or why, when a certain man apparently named “Ramen” waved at the barista as he walked out, his face went red and he bit his lip to conceal the infectious smile.

——

It wasn’t until Roman got into his car that he noticed the Sharpie message just barely peeking out over the edge of his hand. He raised a brow, setting down his keys to examine it for a moment. When his hands were free he repositioned the drink so he could read the thin, swooping script on the side.

_Ramen--_

_I have cities, but no houses._

_I have mountains, but no trees._

_I have water, but no fish._

_What am I?_

Roman chuckled, shaking his head at the barista’s antics.

“What am I going to do with you, Virgil?” He asked the cup, cheeks flushed as he thought of the beautiful, peculiar barista that he couldn’t seem to get off his mind.

_No_ , he thought, his heart fluttering just a little as he took one last glance at the riddle before setting down the cup and starting the car. _No chance of that now._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, the update was a long time coming but I am glad to finally be re-emerging from this little writing burnout I found myself in!
> 
> As always, leave a kudos and tell me what you think! Stay safe!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Leave a comment! Or kudos! Or both! :D


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